Plus
by Schwer-von-Begriff
Summary: Ancient Times AU There were always two sides of a medal. The golden shine: Living like no tomorrow with nothing to fear and a whole nation to rule –it was only a matter of time until he would claim the throne his. The shattered mirror: Born in misery, raised in sorrow –there was only so much he could do to survive in the collosseum. Bloodshed was all they had in common.Spain/Romano


_**Pairing:**__ Antonio Fernandez Carriedo/Lovino Vargas (Spain/South Italy)_

_**Side Pairing:**__ Ludwig Beilschmidt/Feliciano Vargas (Germany/Italy)_

_**Summary: **__Roman Empire/Ancient Times AU. There were always two sides of one single medal. Two different meanings of life. The golden shine: Living like no tomorrow with nothing to fear and a whole nation to rule – it was only a matter of time until he would claim the throne his. The shattered mirror: Born in misery, raised in sorrow – there was only so much he could do to survive in the collosseum. Bloodshed was all they had in common. _

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He held his head high, against all odds. There was a slight smile on his face, even as he was dragged away with harsh movements. It did not take long until he stumbled for the first time, his torn clothes, already covered in dirt and sweat, becoming even browner. His skinned knees greeted the hot ground and left a small amount of blood on the grey pavement. Only the hiss of pain that left his dry throat in an almost silent way told the person behind him that he, indeed, felt pain. And although that was music in the ears of his torturer, the still smiling façade of him drove the man mad. A cracking sound filled the atmosphere, followed by a cry of agony. It was all triggered by a bone-breaking kick.

"Stand up, slave." A growl resounded. There was not a single hint of sympathy in his voice. But the man that lay on the ground made no move. "Now!"

Another kick, another cry. He bit his tongue, just to endure the pain. The metallic taste that filled his mouth seemed to calm him down, somewhat. A calmness blood alone could cause. He didn't dare to refuse the order again. So he stood up, his body shaking. It took energy he hadn't had anymore, but he used it, nevertheless.

The small grin did not return, instead he just looked at the ground and all the dust that covered it. A sigh escaped his mouth, one that was as red as his teeth. It took a push to his back to make him drag his body across the street. Still, he crawled like a mouse with broken limbs and it seemed to be too slow, so his torturer made him go faster. Almost impossible for him, but he managed it, somehow.

With his breathe uneven, he fell to the floor a second time. The pain returned, this time so much crueler than before, and he had to stumble forward again. He just wished to end it all, in that moment. Laughter would fill the air, if it wasn't for this serious and nearly deadly situation.

There was no smile on his face, as he swallowed the blood that moistened his dry throat like fresh water would do. He coughed afterwards, spat out some of the red liquid that still painted his teeth and walked forward again, while the man behind him pushed him every once in a while. It was hard for him not to lose his balance and he would drain in self-pity - but he couldn't. He would be dead in the blink of an eye if he would simply stop, without making another movement. It took minutes that vanished into hours to make him realize that. Hours that felt like an ungodly eternity. But he was certain that he did not want to die just then.

So what could he do? He lived through the unbearable pain, the suffering, the dehydration that whispered to him in an almost soothing voice. Or maybe that was nothing but his imagination. It was something that kept him awake, if nothing else. A steady truth he could grasp, even if it ripped him and his mind apart and sliced both to shreds. This was life, he decided. And life could be worse, for all he knew. He had to stay optimistic, after all. And so, the grin returned. A quite sad one, its glory mangled long ago – but the ghost of it was still there. While it decided his fate in one of the most gruesome ways ever seen –a kick to the ribs, followed by a slap to his already swollen face- it saved his mind and sanity. He sucked in air, his breathing harsh, and braved himself for the final, the last crack he would ever hear and feel.

It never came, though. As his flesh was torn by the sand and dirt once again, three silhouettes came into vision, their steps and every made movement radiating pride. Accompanied by more people than he could possible count, every one of them awaiting orders as the proudest of them, dressed in the softest satin, came to a halt before him. He greeted him and his torturer with a soft spoken "_Salve_.".

"I will gladly wait for the day this young man fights in the arena. He looks terrible, though. Might as well let him clean himself. Don't be so hard on him." The man that was responsible for nearly all of his wounds nodded, suddenly as small as the dirty rat he was. A friendly laugh erupted from the throat of the emperor and the sheer mass of people laughed along.

Just one remained silent, a scoff on his face as he looked at the broken, young soon-to-be gladiator. His gaze was intense, hateful, even. There was no hint of pity in his whole body language. He carried himself with pride and arrogance and spit on the ground, right next to the shaken boy.

"He looks disgusting.", he hissed and threatened to slap another man -that tried to calm him and his bad temper- across the face. He stopped the movement just barely before his hand collided with the soft skin.

The other one whimpered. "Don't do that, _frater_, please! You don't have to be so mean, Lovino!"

Lovino would say something back, if it wasn't for the silence that suddenly filled the air and his grandfather that looked at him with a strict expression. The Kaiser shook his head, as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

"You should behave, _nepos. _ My one and only flesh and blood should treat everybody with respect, even a slave. There is no need to spit on your people. The very own people you will rule over in the future, to be exact. It fills my heart with disdain to know that my first-born grandson isn't capable of being an emperor. And it hurts my very soul that your brother can not ascend the throne." There wasn't hatred in his voice at all. His words sounded soothing, like a lullaby, but he couldn't hide the pure and utter despair that threatened him. His grandson heard it, most likely, but chose to pretend he was deaf.

Or maybe he really couldn't hear a single thing at all, in that moment.

Nobody knew.

His brother tried to sound happy, while he looked at the poor soul that still lay on the ground. He extended his hand in a welcoming way. "I will help you, okay? It's not my duty at all, but I'm happy to guide you to a place where you can stay. You shouldn't be treated like an animal, after all!"

A small nod was all he received as the slave stood up with legs that soon gave out under him. The emperor's grandson steadied him, though, and patted his back, careful not to hurt him. The slave send him a weak smile, breathed in much needed oxygen and formed a silent "_Gratias tibi ago_.".

"You don't need to thank me…", the young man mumbled. "Anyway…what do they call you? My name is Feliciano and it is a pleasure to meet you!"

"Not so fast, Feli. I am sure he can't answer your questions for now. And I don't want you to get dragged into this little drama here. You have higher priorities." The Kaiser's voice cut through the almost happy tune of the situation and the gladiator looked shameful to the ground. While he did so, the cheerful one of the two brothers followed his gaze and sighed. It did not change a single thing, though.

But the poor being that could stand just barely, collected his last resorts of energy and choked out his name, his voice hoarse and rasping. It surprised both; Feliciano and his grandfather. "Antonio.", he coughed. "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

Even Lovino seemed interested in this new information – his eyes widened a bit, his mouth formed words unheard in the sheer mass of people. The poison, though, could be smelled even kilometers away. He was just a slave – he didn't matter. So, what took them so long? They should go. They should let him here to die. He wasn't worth it at all.

His brother did not share his opinion, though, for he flashed the wounded man his teeth and squealed in delight. As if he just found himself another friend. But he had to leave him, he knew that. That was what his grandfather wanted, for whatever reason was beyond him.

He found out why the moment he let Antonio go. "Lovino will be so kind and guide him to his place. We don't want another tragedy like this. He is wounded enough, already. But he needs to be healthy if we want to enjoy ourselves in the collosseum. A dead gladiator is a bad gladiator and I don't want them to die outside of the arena. So be so kind, _nepos, _and make sure he is treated the right way. You can come to the collosseum soon after, I will tell them to wait until you return."

His grandson only grumbled in response, took a step forward and grabbed the Hispanic man roughly by the arm. Antonio yelped, but obeyed out of fear, with the ghost of a smile still intact, while Lovino hissed like one of the many straying cats that lived in Rome . His grip was almost as painful as their sharp claws. The Kaiser's grandson saw the mockery called a grin and pushed the slave forward, just like the other rat did before. He was one himself.

A wealthy, golden shining one…

"Then go, slave. Faster, or I will show you what I, the next emperor, am capable of."

**…but a rat nonetheless.**

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_To be continued...  
_

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_"Salve." - "Hello."_

_frater - brother_

_nepos - grandson_

_"Gratias tibi ago." - "Thank you."_


End file.
